


Steal My Gold, Steal My Heart (Barbatos x Reader)

by sondepoch



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Completed, F/M, Fluffy, Gen, Gender Neutral MC - Freeform, M/M, No Warnings, No skips, Oneshot, Requested fic, Wholesome, average length, demon reader, gender neutral reader, kiss ending, non rad au, pickpocket reader, request, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sondepoch/pseuds/sondepoch
Summary: Barbatos runs into a charming pickpocket who laughs a little too often. And troublesome as you are, he can't help but be drawn in every time he finds himself chasing you.OR:Three times, you try to pickpocket him. Three times you fail. But can it really be considered failure if you get to kiss him at the end of it all?~Oneshot
Relationships: Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Barbatos/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 175





	Steal My Gold, Steal My Heart (Barbatos x Reader)

Barbatos always enjoys passing through the poorer districts in the Devildom.

It's places like these, where there are no nobles to sneer at untidiness and no royals to frown upon filth, that the essence of hellfire is _truly_ captured, be through the sound of laughter that rings through the streets or the simple sense of _spirit_ which burns proudly wherever the butler looks.

At first glance, the street is quite a mess.

Children are running barefoot, succubi are on the verge of exposing their privates, and vendors are shouting desperately at anyone who crosses in hopes of selling more of their dirt-cheap wares.

And yet it brings such a peaceful smile on Barbatos's face, because although these people are poor, they are _happy_ , a joyous aura that genuinely seems to seep out of every soul on the street, spreading its brilliant glow to all who look upon the scene.

The merchant calling out to Barbatos on the right, dressed in a strange cloth garb which vaguely resembles silk, drums his fingers eagerly on his mat, bony digits pattering against the ground in a rhythm that beats in tandem to his own merriment. A little ahead, the students walking have their clothing in tatters, but the raw passion with which they remain engaged in their little debate slips out from their eager eyes, ever-moving gestures, and laughing lips. Even down on the other side of the street, where a boy sulks next to his father, Barbatos can recognize the telltale signs of peace from the way the demon leans on his arm as he rests, a bored expression plastered on his face to hide the true contentment he finds at being lost in the scene.

Indeed, it's truly unlike anything else in the Devildom. A sight to behold, it's times like now that Barbatos can almost forget himself as he slips through the people, weaving his body through their figures, getting lost in their crowds until he seems to blend into their happiness.

Almost.

A figure bumps into him abruptly, breaking the butler from his illusioned immersion.

"Sorry, sir!" A voice chimes out, the person not even bothering to turn around and properly apologize as they try to escape and blend back into the crowd, but Barbatos is too quick for them.

He grabs the arm that bumped into him, gloved fingers closing around the limb so tight that it pulls the person backward with a yelp, forcing them to stand in front of him as he stares disapprovingly.

Swift fingers pull the hood down, already glaring sharply in anger at the _audacity_ of this fool, but the second his eyes settle over _your_ face, his irritation fades to mild annoyance.

Of course it's you.

Who _else_ would try to pickpocket him?

 _"You_ ," He scowls, tapping his foot impatiently as his grip on your arm subconsciously tightens.

"Looks like I got caught again, huh?" You ask innocently, a light giggle spilling from your lips as you return the butler's strong gaze with a one of your own, flashing him a Cheshire-grin as you not-so-subtly attempt to pull yourself out of his grasp.

"Give it back," Barbatos orders in a steady voice, keeping his voice even as he holds his palm up.

"Sure, sure, just—wait! What's that thing over there? I think I see the demon king and his royal escort!" You dramatically attempt to draw Barbatos's attention elsewhere, pointing and making a big deal out of absolutely nothing, but the second the butler begins squeezing tighter around your arm, you give up the act. "Ow, ow, ow! Fine! I get it! I'll give you your coinpurse back, so _stop_ squeezing me so tight!"

You scowl cutely, a sulky expression coming onto your face as your free hand darts into your pocket and retrieves the dark green pouch Barbatos left the palace with, dropping his property into his hand with a light _clink_ as the gold coins inside jingle.

Barbatos relaxes a little once he sees his money returned to him, releasing his grip on your forearm just the slightest, and he opens his mouth to comment on your pickpocketing skills, about to tell you what your downfall was _this_ time.

But the second his grip loosens, you've vanished into the crowd,

Barbatos blinks, momentarily unnerved at the speed with which you removed yourself from the situation, but after a moment of staring blankly in the direction you were standing in, he shakes his head, sighing.

You've never been one to linger after Barbatos has called you out.

This must be the tenth time the two of you have crossed paths—a rather impressive number, given that Barbatos has only come to this district a total of three times. Then again, that's what he likes about you. Pickpocket or not, you're _determined_ , and while the butler is confident that you'll never _actually_ succeed in stealing from him, it's entertaining to watch you try.

Oh, and he finds your smile cute.

Of course, that last part is something he'll never confess.

Returning to the streets and blending into the crowd once more, Barbatos hides his purse inside a deeper pocket, lowering his head once more as he continues heading in the direction of the apothecary he came here to visit.

It takes the butler all of forty-five minutes to find the apothecary, secure the Maca root he needs, pay the price, and return to the busy street he was on, but it's hardly five more minutes before _another_ strange thing happens.

Barbatos's eye twitches in irritation when he sees a sudden movement from the other end of the street.

The picture is similar to before, a group of demons so young that they must still be in school sprinting at top speed, all of them barefoot.

The only difference is that this time, they're charging at _him._

The butler barely has any time to take a step back and steady himself before the children are upon him, each of them running around his body (one dipping _through_ his legs) like a school of fish assaulting a shark—only sharks have teeth, and Barbatos feels utterly defenseless against these little rascals who grin so cheekily at him as they pass by.

It's only when they're past him and the familiar weight of _gold_ in his pocket is gone that Barbatos realizes their game.

Eyes widening, he spins around abruptly, an irritated hand darting to his left pocket where the pouch containing his money had been _so_ securely fastened, only to find it, as feared, _gone._

Expression darkening, he watches as the children split up immediately, sharp olive eyes trailing from demonchild to demonchild as they dart into alleys until he catches sight of one who seems to have a more _specific_ destination in mind.

Long legs propelling him forward, Barbatos nearly _growls_ when he reaches the alley he saw the demon disappear into, his stormy expression morphing into one of light surprise as he sees _you._

 _Clever_ , he thinks, watching you high five the little girl who had succeeded in pickpocketing him before giving her a joyful kiss on the cheek, bidding her farewell as soon as the little demonchild hands the pouch over and runs away.

Barbatos watches you for a moment, then.

You're almost always moving whenever he runs into you, nimble fingers eternally itching to pickpocket more from him or be off elsewhere, snatching goods from another target. But now, when you pull open the green, silk ribbon that holds Barbatos's coinpurse together, you're completely still as your eyes light up in wonder, a soft gasp escaping your lips when you see the sheer _amount_ of coins inside.

A strange warmth rushes through Barbatos's heart as he watches you.

But still, he had his reasons for chasing you to this alley—and he isn't about to forget them. With a loud sigh and quirked eyebrow, he draws your attention to him once more, crushing your dreams instantly as you realize that your attempt to steal his money, as usual, has failed.

"Again, really?"

He arches an unimpressed eyebrow at you, crossing his arms and holding his hand out for the _second_ time today as he waits for you to return his money, tapping his foot impatiently.

Your gleeful smile turns into a pout almost instantly, and you make no time in spinning around and attempting to make a break for it, making use of the muscled legs that are already so experienced in running away.

But Barbatos is hardly one of your _regular_ targets.

It takes him all of three strides to catch up to you, gloved fingers clasping around dirty wrists, caging the two together like handcuffs while he pries his purse from your unwilling hands.

"Damn it!" You shout, attempting to kick him, only to fail and stumble in his hold. You groan audibly as he pockets his money, frown deepening. "Oh my goodness! Would you look at that? It's Lord Diavolo!"

And Barbatos _actually_ falls for that.

Too used to the prince's antics to risk ignoring your words, he glances back briefly.

A flash of red causes his eyes to widen in disbelief, though it turns out to be nothing more than a merchant dressed in red cottons, but that moment of hesitation is _all_ it takes for you to dive your fingers back into the butler's pocket, steal his money, and dash out of his grip once more.

The sound of your laughter, oh-so- _charming_ , is what brings Barbatos's attention back to you.

"I can't believe that worked!" You exclaim gleefully, darting down the alley, head tossed behind your shoulder as you watch the butler. "Who would have known you were so _easy_ to fool? And here I thought you were one of the smart ones!"

Barbatos refuses to chase after you, instead following you down the alley with long, powerful strides as he approaches. But if you're worried about the shrinking distance between your bodies, you don't comment on it.

"Bar-ba-tos!"

The demon blinks in surprise, calm olive eyes turned surprised as he studies your carefree expression.

_How do you know who he is?_

"You have such a fancy name, sir!" You exclaim, darting forward once more. "I mean, I already knew you were wealthy from the way you dress but now I think you're _even_ higher up in class! The apothecary was _so_ reluctant to give me your information after you left!"

Barbatos follows you with furrowed eyebrows, not even bothering to humor your remarks with a response as you continue running away from him.

"Say, do you know any nobles? Oh, if you do, _please_ tell me! That would be so fancy! I could tell all my friends!"

_Nope. You definitely don't know who he is._

"Say, how much money do you think this ribbon is worth if I—Hey!"

Your expression of carefree surprise instantly morphs into indignation when you realize that you've been caught—not by Barbatos himself but by his _tail_ , which is now loped around your waist and dangling you in the air as you kick.

Internally, the demon thinks that it's quite impressive that you even managed to push him _this_ far, given that most pickpockets he's dealt with have hardly posed a challenge. But it would seem that your tenacity is nothing to be trifled with.

Then again, neither is Barbatos, when he's in his demon form.

"You're remarkably troublesome, do you know that?" He tells you, maintaining his exasperated expression to hide his inner amusement as he pries his moneypouch from your unwilling fingers. Ignoring your sounds of protest, he turns around the instant he has his property returned to him, settling your body back down on the ground _only_ once he's placed significant distance between the two of you.

 _That was an impressive attempt_ , _though_ —he thinks to himself, quietly wondering what might have happened had he not been able to properly identify the demonchild who had stolen his coinpurse in the first place.

_The thief grows smarter each time we cross paths._

Barbatos remains slightly on-edge prepares to exit the town, deciding that he's had enough of this district for the day. You're entertaining to interact with, but the butler has a long night ahead of him at Diavolo's palace, and he's not sure he wants to risk _another_ run-in with you.

Of course, when someone has their mind _truly_ set on something, little can stand in their way of achieving it. And just as Barbatos is firm in his resolve to defend against any further attempts to steal his coinpurse, you're equally determined to pickpocket it.

So it's hardly surprising when the two of you cross paths once more.

It happens right before Barbatos exits the town, when he's pausing briefly at the gate, that he feels something tickle his side. He ignores it at first, knowing all too well that the street is almost completely empty, and that there's no one next to him in a four-foot radius.

And then the oh-so-familiar weight in his side has vanished.

Barbatos spins around incredulously, not understanding how in _hell_ he was pickpocketed again unless you have powers of invisibility or something, because he could have _sworn that_ there was nothing next to him.

And then he sees it.

Or rather, he sees _you._

You're balancing awkwardly on the rooftop, both your hands holding your tail where you had literally used it at a _fishing rod_ to hook the end around the pouch with Barbatos's money, reeling it in until the bag is in your hands. And while you look absolutely _ridiculous_ , Barbatos can't deny the fact that he has a larger problem on his hands.

You have his money.

And unlike last time in the alley, you now have the high ground. And it is going to be _much_ more difficult to get his gold back from you.

You let out a yelp of victory, one so joyous that it almost makes Barbatos hesitate (because really, it tugs at his heartstrings to see you so elated), but then you've disappeared over the rooftop and are running away at top speed—and Barbatos _has_ to follow you.

Unwilling to shift into his demon form right off the bat, he trains a wary eye on your figure while the other helps him navigate through the remaining people, watching your figure as he follows close behind on the ground. Unfortunately for you, this is still one of the _poorer_ districts, a fact which is highlighted by the awkward placement of the buildings. Slowly, to continue your journey forward, you're forced to descend from the rooftops to the second-floor balconies. A few hundred feet later, and you're just barely above Barbatos, still sprinting at top speed, but on the first floor balconies. And after enough time, you're running _just_ above ground level, using your every instinct drilled into you from centuries of pickpocketing to stay a mere hair's width away from Barbatos.

He curses, gritting his teeth every time his hands close over air when he tries to grab your leg.

The commotion attracts significant attention—and really, why wouldn't it? A proud-looking demon who's _obviously_ a noble, chasing after a pickpocket giggling with every step.

Barbatos hates it.

And yet, a small part of him loves it, because seeing the way your eyes light up sends a certain warmth straight to the butler's heart. One that is not at all unwelcome.

"Oi! Brat!"

The two of you turn your heads to the right, where an old man is waving at you both, an irritated expression on his face.

 _Papryllius of Hellstone,_ Barbatos thinks, recognizing the man from the few times he'd done business with him. An excellent blacksmith, Papryllius is horribly underrecognized for his masterful skills. Barbatos has already entered into more than a few trade deals between him and the palace, and the _furious_ look on the man's face as he watches Barbatos chase you might intimidate the butler, if not for the fact that the glare is being directed at _you._

"Old Pap!" You call gleefully, immediately altering your course to jump over Barbatos's head and sprint in the direction of his shop. "Hide me! I have the _best_ load for us!"

You waste no time in entering the shop, not even thinking twice about Barbatos being hot on your tail, and when the demon finally catches up to you, staring at your figure barreling around inside the blacksmith's store, he and Paprylius exchange a look.

All information is exchanged in that single moment, and not a second later, the two of them are storming inside.

"Ya idiot!" Paprylius shouts the second he sets his eyes on you. "Do ya even _know_ who ya went stealin' from _this_ time. Huh?! Do ya?!"

Barbatos watches coolly as you flinch under the harshness of the blacksmith's cold words, noting how you seem to cower in the corner of the room as you not-so-discreetly hide the stolen coinpurse behind your back.

"Um...the apothecary said his name was Barbatus something. I mean, Barbatos."

Paprylius saunters over to your figure, giving you a _whack_ so hard on the back of your head that it almost makes Barbatos flinch in return. Grabbing you firmly by the wrist, with a force so strong that Barbatos suspects it'll cause bruising, the blacksmith yanks you forward to face the demon.

"This is Barbatos, _duke of hell._ Barbatos, _aide to the prince._ Barbatos, a goddamn _noble_ that ya _shouldn't_ be stealin' from!"

Paprylius then gives you no time to process his words, all but throwing you forward onto the dirty ground outside where Barbatos is quick to follow, ignoring the slam of the shop door as the blacksmith effectively washes his hands off of dealing with you both.

And then there is silence.

For the first time today, all life has deserted the street, the echoes of the fact that there's a _noble_ in town sending such fear through everyone's heart that they've all vanished, the once spirited district now looking like a ghost town as the butler glances around.

Nothing moves except for you, where you remain on the ground, staring up at Barbatos with your mouth hung open.

Barbatos bends to the ground, checking your trembling form, almost reaching a gloved hand out to touch your cheek before you flinch away from it. He stands, regarding you cautiously.

"Y-you're from the p-palace?" He hears you stutter out, voice devoid of any of your usual excitement, but instead replaced with a cold _fear_.

"Yes," Barbatos answers smoothly. He isn't sure what else to say.

"A-are you actually the royal aide to His Majesty?"

"Yes." Again, Barbatos feels like there's something more he should say, but he doesn't know what it is.

You remain silent for a moment, and the demon can practically _feel_ the weight of his words being bounced back and forth inside your head.

And then you move.

"I am so sorry, my lord." The words are spoken in a trembling voice, and your body immediately shifts into a bow, a shaky one where your forehead touches the ground and your legs quake despite you applying no pressure to them—and the air once cold suddenly becomes _thick_ with your fear.

"I beg your—" Your voice chokes up for a second, but you recover, finishing words that are all too familiar to Barbatos's ears. "Your forgiveness, my lord, for my foolishness. May you find it in you to pardon my crimes."

Barbatos feels his heart break.

His eyes turn pained as he stares at your utterly terrified form, shaken to the core by the sudden realization that you had attempted to pickpocket, _multiple_ times, one of the highest-ranking demons in the realm.

And he hates it.

Diavolo has been making steady efforts to erase the people's memory of his tyrannical father, trying his best to prove to the Devildom that the authority no longer rules with an iron fist, that the slightest transgression will no longer be met with eternal suffering, that the public is no longer a slave to those in power.

It's only just begun to work in the upper rungs of society, within those who have come to know Diavolo personally.

But the commonfolk?

They're still terrified to the core of anyone who has blood richer than their own, all-too-aware of the Devildom's cruel past of punishment and torture to ever dare step out of line in the presence of anyone from a remotely noble background, much less someone from the _palace._

"Please forgive me," You repeat, but the words sound more like a whimper as you hold your head as close to the ground as physically possible, and Barbatos abruptly realizes just how empty the street is without the people from before: it's completely lifeless, completely stripped of the _spirit_ it had once beheld so proudly.

And it's all his fault.

 _He_ has sucked the life out of this district, the life and the freedom and the happiness. These people fear him, and now that you know who he is, _you_ fear him.

And that, perhaps, is what hurts the most.

Barbatos bends down, close to the ground, gently lifting your face from the dirt with his finger.

You respond to his touch, lifting your face to meet him, but your eyes are far-away. _Distant._ Closed off, so that Barbatos may not inflict any more pain than is absolutely necessary.

"I will not hurt you," He says, the words like a whisper. He means them with all his heart, and he desperately hopes that you know them to be true, but when he looks into your eyes, he knows that it didn't work.

"Yes, my lord."

"Don't call me that," He mutters, the words coming out almost angry with how quickly he spits them. When he sees the immediate flash of fear in your eyes and the instinctive stiffening of muscles, the bracing for a strike, he amends his statement: "Call me...call me what you did before. Barbatos. Call me Barbatos."

"Yes, Barbatos."

The demon's jaw tightens at that, realizing that whatever closeness and comfort he had attained with you has now been _crushed_ to bits by the fact that he is of noble blood, by the fact that you were born to _fear_ him, by the fact that the happiness of your people cannot exist in line with the happiness of his.

"I _promise_ I will not hurt you," The demon repeats, but the solemn way you nod your head shows him that in no way do you believe him.

"Fine," He mutters under his breath, an instant decision being made. He rises to his full height, crossing his arms. "Rise."

You do so immediately, not even stumbling as you pull yourself to your feet before him.

Barbatos regards you calmly for a moment, then. The look in your eyes grows almost curious for a moment as you both stand, studying each other.

It's not an unfamiliar position for either of you.

No, the two of you have stood like this nearly a dozen times over by now, usually right after Barbatos catches you pickpocketing him and right before you disappear into the shadows, laughing that oh-so-melodious laugh until you're gone.

Right now, though, there are no traces of mirth on your face as you study the buttons on Barbatos's outfit, probably noting how each of them is worth more than your _life_.

You're far beyond the point where any words are going to get through to you. Too wrapped up in your own head, in the terrifying tales you've heard about the demon king, in fictional fear that is no longer reality. But Barbatos can hardly save you from your mind, can hardly convince you that what you've been taught for so long is inherently _wrong_.

So, really, there's only one thing for Barbatos to do.

He kisses you.

It's nothing more than a soft peck on the lips, the demon just _barely_ angling his head downward to ghost his lips over yours at the perfect angle—and then there's a _brutal_ force on his cheek and the moment is over, with Barbatos touching his stinging cheek and you holding the palm that just slapped him with a proper _vicious_ look on your face.

"You—you—" Words desert you completely as you contemplate what just happened, your expression turning into a comical mix of anger, embarrassment, and shock. You remain still for a moment, utterly unaware of how to react beyond slapping the man, but you find your footing soon enough.

"You _bastard!"_ You shout with reckless abandon, raising your other hand in a threat to slap him again. "That was my _first_ kiss, you absolute _asshole!"_

The words are shouted in wild fury, and Barbatos has to confess, he finds you even _more_ attractive this way, entirely hotheaded and possessed by fury, fingers trembling with rage as the lifeless expression from before is replaced by a fire in your eyes, one that burns so brightly it rivals even the essence of hellfire itself.

"How _dare_ you insult me like this?! I assure you, I will—"

Before you can say anything you'll regret _too_ much, Barbatos cuts you off, smoothly raising a hand to silence you.

"See?" He questions, masking his prior fluster from kissing you with a cool expression. "I like it much better when you're like this and _talking._ My role in society ought to have no bearing on how you treat me."

"Oh!" You exclaim abruptly, suddenly realizing what the butler did. "I mean, my lord—I mean, Barbatos—I mean—"

You stumble over your words, no longer sure _what_ to call him after lashing out at him so openly, even more befuddled by the fact that the butler seems _amused_ by the fact that you _slapped him_.

"Oh my god," You mutter, glancing at his red cheek. "I am _so_ sorry—"

"Don't be," Barbatos responds, a light smile on his face. And really, when your expressions are so animated, how can anyone _not_ smile as they look upon your features? "I knew it was a risk as I was doing it."

"O-oh," You mumble, glancing at the ground sheepishly. "Um!" You begin, pulling out the dark green purse that you pickpocketed, handing it to the demon hesitantly. "I suppose you'll want this back?"

"No," The butler muses. His next words are more to test your reaction than anything else, but he still says them: "You can consider the money inside a payment for having taken your first kiss."

 _That_ sets you off.

"Excuse me?!" You shout, an expression of pure _anger_ washing over your features once more as your eyebrows furrow. "You _asshole!_ If you think that's _any_ way to properly _court_ someone, then you—"

"Who said I was courting you?" Barbatos taunts in response, too tempted to be able to resist teasing you more.

There's a moment of silence where his words hang in the air.

And only then does he sense how they sting you.

"Fine!" You shout, throwing his purse at him with such force that as the coins clink against his chest, Barbatos almost worries that there'll be a bruise forming there by the end of the evening. "Keep your money! I don't want it anymore!"

With that, you spin around, and Barbatos is entirely certain that you plan on walking away completely, leaving him here and likely never returning to his life.

And the prospect of that is simply _too_ risky.

"Wait," The demon chuckles, grabbing your wrist right before you can escape him. As usual, you try to wriggle free, but the demon tugs you closer to him, spinning you into his chest so that he's trapped you into a loose embrace.

"All I am saying," He begins, raising a gloved hand to angle your cheek toward him. "Is that if I were courting you, I wouldn't do it with money."

He punctuates the statement with a soft kiss on your cheek, smooth lips coming into contact with smoother skin, and you instantly relax in Barbatos's arms, your entire body seeming to echo the soft sigh of contentment that leaves your lips.

Barbatos tugs you forward, wrapping his arms around your waist, and he holds you upright so that your foreheads are touching.

"May I kiss you again?" He asks gently, and this time it's the exact _opposite_ of the first kiss, given that he's explicitly requesting permission beforehand, you're no longer groveling by his feet, and the flush on your cheeks is from affection rather than fear.

And yet, the light nod you give as you hesitantly meet Barbatos's eyes is as thrilling as it was to kiss you that first time, and Barbatos wastes no time in leaning forward to lock his lips with yours. And it's this _second_ kiss that counts, this _second_ kiss that is truly where the affections are exchanged.

Because when his lips next connect with yours, _both_ parties are ready for it, and it's no longer just Barbatos kissing you, but truly _you_ kissing _him_.

And Barbatos relishes in it.

He adores the idea of you accepting him into your world, in no longer having to _pretend_ like he's a part of this town but at last being one with its happenings, with its feelings, with _you_ as the two of you kiss each other so chastely in the privacy of darkness.

And though the street is dead and empty as the two of you embrace, there's nothing lifeless about the kiss—nothing _empty_ about the way your lips move against his. Because for once, you two are no longer playing a game of cat and mouse. Rather, the game is finally over and the victory lap is glorious, and the two of you are finally dancing with each other, no longer the pickpocket and the target but simply two demons thrusting their hearts out under the stars, kissing happiness and kissing contentment as lips collide.

Barbatos hums appreciatively when you finally break away, giving you all the time you need to regain air as he presses his forehead to you.

And right as he opens his mark to make a little quip, to chuckle and comment on how it would seem that his courting process is going better than planned, you sense his actions and silence him with a kiss, both of you grinning like fools as your lips collide once more, with no signs of stopping.

**Author's Note:**

> Word count: 5.1k
> 
> Notes: Chill day
> 
> Comment & Leave Kudos
> 
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.


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